


Of Two Minds (But One Heart)

by LaurytheLatrator



Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, F/M, Follows Canon, daemon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-07 18:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1909854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurytheLatrator/pseuds/LaurytheLatrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the curse breaks and everyone remembers who they really are, there's another revelation Emma has to deal with: all the "pets" who had been made docile by the curse are actually the townspeople's daemons. Daemons are natural to the Enchanted Forest, but not found in the Land Without Magic. Accepting that she's the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming means Emma has to face one tricky question:</p>
<p>Why doesn't she have a daemon?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beanstalk

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of scenes that I've been writing which incorporate daemons into OUAT canon. I started out posting these on tumblr, but I figured I could compile them into one story here. I will add more as they come to me, and I will try to keep the chapters in chronological order.
> 
> These focus on Emma learning how to understand daemons, and less on pairings, but that will be a part of the series. I am a Captain Swan shipper, so Hook will appear in a romantic light later.

"Never would have taken you for the dormouse type, darling." Hook remarks over his shoulder. Emma's too busy finding her next foothold to answer him.

"What — oh. That's 'cause I'm not." She answers without looking away from the beanstalk's steep face.

"Insect, then." Hook amends with little care.

Emma's panting, exasperated with the conversation. "No."

"Something small though, got to be." He pauses his ascent to sweep his eyes thoroughly ( _suggestively_ ) over her body. "You're not hiding a snake in that coat, are you? I never did trust snakes." Emma thinks fleetingly of Gold. In a town populated with dull people and their duller pets, those beady reptilian eyes had been eerily aware.

"Isn't it rude to ask about a person's daemon?" She retorts with blithe annoyance. Her eyes narrow on the flicker of brown-tipped wings, still circling them like a vulture. "I don't ask about your giant gull thing-y, you should do the same."

" _Albatross_." Hook enunciates with dry condescension. She wants badly to make a golf pun but it would be lost on him. "At least I'm upfront about her. Couldn't hide her if I tried." He says it with such masculine pride it makes Emma roll her eyes.

"Not that it's any of your business, but where I'm from we keep our daemons on the inside. I might be the minority in The Enchanted Forest, but come to my world and you'd get a lot more weird looks with that— her."

And yet as she says it, she knows it's a lie. Not about her world of coffee and tv and no magic and no daemons, that's true. But she thinks of Henry with Aryn, the constantly shifting yet always colorful creature, and her parents and the fact that by all accounts daemons _do_ run in her blood. She thinks of the hollow emptiness within her that never seemed to be filled, not by foster homes, or dead-end jobs, or even Neal, but which had eased some since finding Storybrooke. And she feels, even now, above the clouds of the Enchanted Forest, a prickle of something (anxiety? anticipation?) and a tug rooting her to this earth. Emma glances down and reminds herself that, especially this high up, that tug is folly.

"While I've no conception of a land without daemons," She hears Hook mutter above her, "I don't need to see yours to get a sense of your mettle. You're something of an open book."

Emma scoffs, "Am I?"

"Quite." He grunts pulling himself up. "Let's see. You volunteered to come up here because you were the most motivated. You need to get back to a child."

"That's not perception, that's eavesdropping."

"Ah," Hook replies rather smugly, "But you don't want to abandon him the way you were abandoned." Despite herself, that almost makes Emma pause.

"Was I?" She deflects as she had earlier.

"Like I said…" Hook begins, but isn't the one to finish the sentence.

There's a whisper of movement behind her, and Emma tenses as a crystal clear feminine voice murmurs, "Open book." She turns to see the albatross already disappearing as it circles around the beanstalk. It's the first time his daemon has spoken in front of her, and the intimacy in her voice makes Emma shiver.

She draws upon her years of steely courage. "How would you know that?"

"I spent many years in Neverland, home of the Lost Boys." Hook reveals, and though thoughts of Lost Boys and Peter Pan and Captain Hook make her want to laugh, his tone is dark and foreboding. "They all share the look in their eyes — the look you get when you've been left alone."

"Yeah, well," Emma says, still hoping to brush off Hook's observations, "My world ain't Neverland."

"Aye," Hook agrees too readily, "But there's another thing you share in common." He pauses, and Emma looks up to meet his gaze. The albatross lands beside him, her flat feet curling around a leaf stem. Her enormous wings fold up against her pure white body, her feathers sleek as they transition from white to grey to brown. As he raises his hook towards her, she rubs her curved beak along the metal in a bizarre caress. Hook speaks softer, hinting at kindness beneath the rogue. "They've lost their daemons too."


	2. Lake Nostos

Emma can't spare any regret for the long white body stretched across black leather. Hook stood in the way of getting to Henry, and no matter how docile his daemon may have seemed, they were both fighters and had made themselves her enemy. The punch was a little underhanded, sure, but Emma couldn't show mercy now.

"Now let's go home!" She bellows, turning to where Mary Margaret was circling Cora. Her sword raised, Emma charges her but the witch dissipates in purple smoke. It's not defeat, but it's a chance. Mary Margaret calls out to run, but they're already racing to the portal. But Cora reappears at the last instant, sending them sprawling on the ground.

Cora is striding to Mary Margaret with death in her eyes, and she effortlessly forces Emma back down when she struggles to get up. Emma catches her breath as the two women exchange barbs. She moves slowly as she gets up, not wanting to alarm the witch. It's the great black hawk she sees first, high above their heads, going into a dive. Emma's eyes snap down to find its trajectory: Dregen, the pure white ermine hissing from around Mary Margret's neck.

"No!" Emma gets to her feet and pushes her mother out of the way. She cries out a moment later as talons sink into her shoulder. There must be magic involved, because the hawk's hold is enough to immobilize her.

"Oh you foolish girl!" Cora exclaims incredulously. Emma can't do anything but gape back at her. From the ground Mary Margaret cradles Dregen, both woman and daemon too shaken from the close call. They are paralyzed, helpless, and Cora holds all the cards.

"You've no daemon for me to turn to dust, at least not that I can see." She says with a callousness that chills. "Perhaps if I look…" Cora plunges her hand into Emma's chest, sinking through skin and bone easily. "…Deeper." The witch hisses. Emma's sputtering and panting with pain. "Hmm… peculiar." Cora mutters, brow furrowing as she roots through her being. "Where are you?"

"Looking for me?" A sarcastic male voice calls out. Both Cora and Emma whip their head around. There, standing on a rocky outcropping, is a mountain lion. Its fur shines golden in the sun, and its amber eyes are narrowed as it snarls at Cora. Some knowledge long forgotten clicks into place as Emma stares at it.

"You." She whispers with dawning recognition. Cora seems dumbstruck beside her. The mountain lion leaps down from the rocks and barrels toward the witch.

"Unhand her!" It roars as it leaps forward. Its paws connect with Cora's chest, wrenching her hand from within Emma and forcing her backwards. Emma gasps, feeling the sensation herself. The mountain lion doesn't go far, slinking back to Emma's side as Cora collects herself.

"Well, my dear, this is a surprise." She declares, her eyes narrow and smile insincere. "But I think you'll find this reunion bittersweet. Because now I have your weakness in plain sight."

Emma looks down just as the mountain lion looks up. Their eyes connect, and Emma knows then, undeniably, that this is what she's been missing.

"No, Cora." Her hand comes down to rest in his fur, and they can both feel the energy surge through them. "He's my strength." And just like that, their power radiates from them, and Cora is blasted backwards. The Queen falls, unconscious, in the dirt.

"Emma!" She turns to see Mary Margaret stalking towards them, the white Ermine perched on her shoulders. "What was that?" Her mother asks as she eyes the mountain lion uneasily.

"I think that was us." Emma says, falling to her knees beside her daemon. _Her daemon._ She'd never imagined _…_

"Emma." He breathes, his amber eyes wide as he looks at her with the same awe and relief she feels.

When she replies, she whispers the name that seems etched into her very soul. "Eames."


	3. New York City

Emma stalks after him, fists digging her nails into already scraped palms. The man she never expected to see again is nonchalantly sauntering down the street to take her to a bar. Neal, or Baelfire, or whoever-the-hell he is, looking like he's pleased to see her, but afraid of his father for some reason, and she has no patience for any drama other than her own.

Neal holds the door open for her when they arrive at this bar. The urge comes suddenly, to crush his throat between her jaws, and Emma wishes Eames' instincts weren't so clear in her mind. He gets the bartender to pour them two beers, then waves him away. He slumps onto the barstool, but Emma is stiff with tension as she stands next to him.

He asks what she wants to know, and Emma doesn't know where to start. "Did you know who I was when we met?" She demands.

"If I had I wouldn't have gone near you." Neal replies, like that's a comfort.

"Come on." She growls, jittering in her seat.

"Come on? Come on what?" Emma stares at him, watching his stupidly earnest face contort with incredulity. "I was in hiding. I came here to get," Neal looks around at the nearly empty dive, "Away from… all that crap."

"If you're from the Enchanted Forest," She says, taking sadistic pleasure from his wince, "Then where…?" Emma stares at him with dawning horror. Because Baelfire _chose_ to leave, he wasn't a baby, there was no _wardrobe malfunction_ during his journey, and they had traveled so much and slept in cars together and _she had never seen so much as a butterfly_.

"Neal," Emma says with a hoarse voice, "What did you do to your daemon?" He flinches, and she knows she was right. Breathing heavily, he drinks from the beer for the first time.

When he speaks, it's looking into the ale as if in mourning. "I lost her." He says, which isn't an answer, because she and Eames have talked to Gold and Regina and they know that they were the only known case of such a separation occurring by chance. Neal ought to be dead, or practically a zombie. Neal looks up to see her expression of outright disbelief. "It's hard to take a daemon to this world, they're not natural here." He looks her up and down, and Emma bristles. "Believe me, I was just as surprised as you to find out you're the Savior or whatever. You didn't have one either, I just assumed…"

"Yeah, well, I do." Emma interrupts swiftly, red hot anger bubbling. "His name is Eames and he was always supposed to be with me. He's, uh, he's back in Storybrooke." Neal raises a skeptical eyebrow. She knows the distance seems impossible, but it's a lot less than what they're used to, and it's tricky to take a mountain lion on an airplane.

Emma thinks about explaining, but she doesn't want to keep discussing this with him. This is Neal, and he doesn't deserve her time. Instead she plows right into the next question, her voice shaking from years of pent up anger and sorrow. "So if you didn't know, you were just using me. You just needed someone to take the fall for all the watches that you stole."

She listens to him wheedle with his words, and Emma finds that her superpower is shot. The emotions are making her lie detector go haywire. Neal is spinning his story about August coming to her ( _the night he turned her in_ ), and it's all too much of a coincidence. She says as much.

He tries to convince her of fate, and Emma can't take it, so she reaches down within her to find Eames. There's a strength to her daemon, a resilience, and right now she calls upon that part of them to get through this.

So she stonewalls when he asks if something good come out of their relationship. She is going to do what she does best: deliver lying scum to justice. In this case, Rumplestiltskin, the man Neal least wants to see.

But then he stops her, and it isn't his desperation or her sense of mercy: it's the allure of keeping Neal out of her life, away from her son, and from Eames, the only part of her he hasn't managed to break.


	4. Neverland: Campfire

"You have the chattiest daemon I have ever come across, love." Hook remarks over the fire. Eames is licking his paws, cleaning the mud and blood from between the pads of his feet. Emma knows the question wasn't really directed at her, and she rolls her eyes. There is so much propriety tied into daemons that she finds meaningless.

"Speech is a blessing, pirate." Eames replies idly. "After years of skulking in the forests, keeping myself to a growl around sapient beings, it's nice to be able to chat." If a mountain lion could raise a condescending eyebrow, he would be. Instead, Emma sees the flick of his left ear which signals his amusement. "Even you qualify."

"It's a little daunting." Hook says, addressing Eames though he glances at Emma periodically. "I keep expecting her to shut you up. She holds so much close it is a wonder that this part of you is free."

Emma chuckles lowly. "He's managed 28 years on his own, and he's got big sharp teeth."

"All the better to eat you with." Eames adds dryly, licking his lips. The reference makes Emma smile.

"So I'm sure he's capable of holding a conversation with you while I try and think of a plan to get Henry back." She means it, Emma manages to tune them out. She can feel Eames' curiosity, or rather _their_ curiosity, being satisfied, and she knows she'll be filled in later.

She's barely aware of the subjects, the Jolly Roger's old crew, the portions of the Enchanted Forest Eames had hid in, the workings of Neverland. Emma keeps her thoughts on Henry, on seeing that he's okay, on giving him a sign that they're coming for him. It's only when she notices their talk turn to daemons that she tunes back in. Daemons are something she still needs to learn about, she scoops up every bit of knowledge she can.

"You won't find any daemons roaming this land." Hook tells Eames. "The mermaids don't have them. 

"What happened to them?" Eames asks, and Emma glances over as the tension skyrockets. Kesi, who had been resting with her wings tucked against her body, stands and strides over to her human's side. Eames tail swishes, sending up dried leaves and dust. "I thought it might be like Emma and I, but all the daemons crossed over fine on the Jolly Roger."

"As far as I'm aware, most of the Lost Boys arrive with their daemon." Hook explains, his fingers sliding through Kesi's feathers as he strokes her neck. It's a comforting gesture, from what Emma's seen, a metaphysical self-hug. He's done that a lot since arriving in Neverland. "They're before Settling, you know?" Emma nods, thinking of Henry and Aryn. "When the Shadow comes for them the daemons probably fly after them or stay in a pocket." He looks up, a grim tint to his blue eyes. "No, the loss is entirely Pan's doing. I've heard him speak of it a couple times, never in detail. He believes the daemon is a child's conscience, the nagging remnants of adults. He…"

The words seem to fail him, and it's Kesi who speaks next. "Pan doesn't like competing for the kids' attention so he cuts their connection." Her voice is rough with grief, and Emma has never heard her sound so discomposed. The albatross has always seemed graceful and dignified, particularly compared to Hook's artfully disheveled exterior.

"His Shadow guards the daemons somewhere on the island. I try not to venture close." He finishes when Kesi falls back into silence.

"The whimpers." Everyone looks over at Eames, who has remained quiet for some time. "I can hear them, at night. They're lonely." Emma and Eames share a look. She had assumed the dread that crept in after dark was a result of stress, and that the way he snuggled closer as they fell asleep was because being back in the jungle reminded him of the time they were apart. It hits her that she has a lot to learn about this, being one person in two bodies, one heart and two minds, with the unique twist of having experienced two entirely different lives up to this point.

"Aye." Hook says, voice subdued. "That they are." He's watching Emma closely, too closely. She realizes that she obviously started paying attention a while ago, and he must've noticed. It should make her self-conscious, but his heavy gaze is more like a blanket than a noose.

It's then that Regina and the Charmings sweep back into camp, and Regina's going on about Eames and protection spells and getting a message to Henry through Aryn, and there's a whole lot more to talk about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This diverges from canon a bit, since they contact Henry in Episode 5, but this probably happens earlier since they have the means.


	5. Neverland: One Time Thing

"Please." Emma murmurs, just a hint too raspy to be entirely innocent. She has to glance away from his bold smirk and knowing eyes. "You couldn't handle it." She declares finally. 

There's a rumble from Eames, and she doesn't need to look to know exactly what's going on with her daemon. The mountain lion is standing about a foot away, towering over the albatross. Kesi has been inching closer with tentative tilts of her head. Eames doesn't budge, and Emma can feel their lack of concern. They've both got this situation under control.

But Hook gets this devilish look as he leans closer. "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't _handle it_." It must be his inflection, the pop on the T, or the swagger of his head, or the blackness of his eyes in shadow. Something about him in that moment ignites sparks inside of her, and Emma can't help it, she pounces. It's animal the way she lunges for his lips, digging into his leather coat collar, dragging him closer. Their bodies crash, and as they sway forward Emma cups the back of his head to hold him to her, nails burying in his thick black hair.

As Hook responds, fighting her hold on his lips to shift beneath her, take some measure of control over the kiss, his hand hovering just shy of her hair, Emma can feel something different taking place. Eames, she realizes, because though her eyes are firmly shut and her attention is wholly devoted to her current task, there's a faint awareness of her daemon's sensations. Eames had stayed perfectly still despite Emma's actions, but Kesi had not. As Hook kisses her back, the albatross leans up and runs her beak beneath Eames' jaw. It's a terrifyingly intimate gesture, and as Emma and Hook make out fiercely, there're shocks of something gentler rippling through her. She can't help the sighs that escape her throat when they part briefly before crashing together like the tide against the shore.

It isn't the frustration, the reckless need to show him up, or the undeniable lust between them that makes her unable to catch her breath when she wrenches herself away. Her fingers clenched in his leather is all that keeps her from stumbling as she tries and fails to find her equilibrium. With her eyes closed, her perception narrows to his nose rubbing against her own, his harsh breath on her wet lips, and the sleek feathers beneath coarse fur.

"That was…" Hook mumbles. There's a tenuous moment when their lips sway towards one another, dangerously close to starting all over again.

"A one time thing." Emma says, resolve not softened by the rasp in her voice. She turns away, has to reorient herself with leaves and dirt and twigs instead of stubble and smirks and eyeliner. She finds the orders from years of sneaking around orphanages. "Don't follow me. Wait five minutes, go get some firewood or something."

There's a long palpable pause. "Are you sure that's what you wish, milady?" The question stop her in her tracks. Had he said it with his usual innuendo, she could've smirked and ignored it; instead, Hook's voice was mingled with a delicate awe. Emma has to look over her shoulder at him to know what he means.

The fingers he'd had pressed against his lips swept down to gesture to the side. Her eyes follow where he leads, and what she sees chokes her from within. Eames is still exactly where she left him, 150 pounds of tightly coiled muscle the most relaxed she's ever witnessed. Kesi has her head tucked beneath Eames' chin, and that must've been the sensation of feathers against fur, but as Emma watches she pulls back. Kesi rubs her beak along the mountain lion's muzzle as she withdraws from the embrace. And Eames, her other half, he watches the albatross back away and Emma can feel the loss like a punch to the gut.

"Eames." She murmurs in a regretful command, and he turns and slinks away with her. They leave Hook and Kesi in the clearing as they traipse through the underbrush. The tension in her daemon is hard to ignore, but Emma manages it until they're by a stream. She starts gathering rocks for a campfire.

"Regina mentioned a magic lesson," She explains needlessly to the amber-eyed stare following her, "We should—"

"Why did you make me leave?" He growls. Emma rounds on him, mouth falling open in shock. "You're the one who started it anyway. Kesi follows suit and suddenly I'm not allowed to enjoy it?"

"What Hook and I were doing, that, that was simple. I have no idea what Kesi was thinking, because that isn't us."

"She likes us!" Eames replied heatedly, stalking forward. "She was being kind, and vulnerable, and—"

"Yeah, well, Hook isn't any of those things." Emma asserts. "And if Kesi acts like that, it's just a con, one I can't believe you're falling for."

"I have never been close to another daemon." Eames says, his eyes flashing with accusation that makes her bristle. " _We_ have never opened ourselves up, because whenever _you_ were with someone, _I_ was hiding in the forest feeling empty inside. And who the hell knows what Neal really did with his daemon to get to the Land Without Magic, but I could never connect with him the way you did, once upon a time." Emma wants to retort, because bringing up Neal still hurts, but her daemon won't let her. "But Hook and Kesi have done nothing but help us since we came to Neverland. We _know_ them. You may not trust his intentions, and I can't completely say I disagree, but…"

Eames is panting, rough mewls that cuts to her heart, and Emma sinks to the ground and wraps her arms around his wiry body. She knows what he's going to say before he says it.

"I want to be close to someone, Emma."

"I know," She whispers into the fur of his neck, "Believe me, I know." Emma pulled back to look in Eames' eyes. The desperation in his eyes was painful, because she knew it was her own. "We _can't_. Henry and Aryn need us to be focused. This thing with Hook, all it could be is distracting." She looks at him with tears in her own eyes. "Why can't family be enough? Snow and Charming aren't about to leave us, and Henry… once we have him back we won't let him go. Hook has no reason to stay, not like they do."

"Maybe they could." Eames replies, but they can both feel the doubt.

"You like playing with Henia," Emma reminds him, thinking of the times the mountIan lion and sheep dog have romped and chased each other, "And Dregen loves riding on you. We can be close to my parents, I promise."

"And Aryn." Eames whispers. "I miss her so."

And just like that, they've come to a decision.

 


	6. Neverland: Echo Caves

The Echo Caves don't seem like such a big deal, but Emma can feel the tension coming off of Hook and Kesi as they step inside. It's massive and completely round, with a gaping chasm surrounding one tiny platform. There, in the center of the cave, is a whicker cage with the slumped but definitely absolutely _alive_ form of Neal. 

She watches as he looks up, disbelief evident even from this distance. His hands grasp the bars of his prison and he shouts, "Emma!" The desperation rings through the room and slowly fades.

"Neal." She whispers, too softly for the cave to catch and amplify. Beside her Emma knows her parents are trying to strategize, but there's no way around it.

"Kesi," Eames speaks up from the rock's edge, leaning just a bit too far for comfort, "Can you fly across and reach him?"

"It's too far." Hook answers for her, and Emma notices for the first time that he has not moved since reaching the edge of the rock. He's been staring out at Neal with his back to them, hardly saying a word. "I told you what needs to be done." He says gruffly, reaching out to Kesi who is perched on the ground beside him. "Moment of truth, sweetheart." He says to her comfortingly.

"So, what," Emma cuts in tersely, "The daemons start talking and suddenly we teleport over there?"

Hook bows his head. "Only one way to find out, I suppose." Kesi ruffles her feathers, a nervous jittery movement unlike her. Everyone's eyes, human and daemon alike, go to her.

"We… that is to say…" Kesi begins falteringly, and Emma realizes she's probably never spoken in front of so many people. She lets out a squall, almost like she's clearing her throat. "Hook and Emma kissed." She says finally. Emma rolls her eyes at the strangely anti-climatic moment.

"What!" David exclaims furiously while Henia growls.

"Yes, rather _carnally_ at that." Kesi carries on with a harsh glint to her eyes more often seen in her counterpart.

"They don't need details!" Emma hisses. "And that's hardly your darkest secret. It was just a kiss." Hook shifts uncomfortably, watching Emma with an unnerving intensity.

"No, it's not." She's addressing Eames now, ignoring the humans altogether. "Lust is no small thing, but it's not all that was at play. Because while they kissed, I opened myself to you, Eames." The mountain lion's claws scratch the rock as he tenses. Emma knows he wants to look away, but maybe it's the magic in this place, because everyone is transfixed on Kesi. Everyone except Hook, who stares at Emma as if awaiting execution.

"Our secret," Kesi says with trembling feathers that glow silver in the low light, "Is that we have never thought we'd be capable of giving ourselves over to anyone again. Not since our first love, our Milah, our Phoelus." The weight of grief hangs over everyone at her words, but it seems to crush Kesi. Hook's pursing his lips with enough force to turn them white, but he must know that he cannot take over for her for this to work. Kesi says, "We never thought we'd meet a pair we'd long to be so intimate with." She moves forward, wings fluttering out briefly for stability, to look into amber eyes. "Until you, Eames."

"Until you, Emma." Hook echos softly.

Emma's mouth falls open, and though she draws breath she had no idea what she could say. The cavern shakes before she has a chance, and as everyone regains their balance, Emma takes shuddering steps towards Hook. He must not notice her intent to speak, because Hook looks in askance at her parents. David nods, his hand falling to pat the head of his daemon. The sheep dog shakes her head, fur flying up over her eyes, and Henia steps forward.

"Mary Margaret, Dregen," She begins, and Emma turns from Hook's side.

"No," Dregen interrupts from his perch on Mary Margret's shoulders, "Me next."

As she listens to a little white ermine spill her mother's desire for another child, and a sheep dog confess that her father cannot leave the fairytale world of Neverland, Emma feels like she's having an out of body experience. There's a magical rock formation creeping toward them with every secret, and physical manifestations of souls in animal form by their side, and she stopped believing in both fantastical concepts a long time ago. Beside her is a pirate who may or may not be in love with her, and across this chasm is the father of her child back from the dead. And although she has this missing piece of herself finally reunited, Emma feels lonely and lost and broken.

The rock bridge reaches the cliffside, and as Emma looks at her tattered family, she knows this is it. Emma draws her sword, wishing she could draw courage just as easily, and Eames takes his first step over the bridge. Eames moves faster, low to the ground and accustomed to this perilous terrain. He reaches Neal and crouches in front of him.

"Are you hurt?" Eames asks, barely loud enough for her to hear, not enough to reach the others.

"I'm fine," Neal answers, avoiding the mountain lion's eyes, "But Henry…"

"It's okay." Emma adds once she gets there. Grateful, he looks up at her, and she wonders if he's always hated looking at her daemon. She swallows something thick in her throat. "We're gonna take care of him. Just need to get you out of here." She rears back to hack at the whicker bars, but Eames turns to look at her.

"No use." He says softly. "We have to." Emma knows her fear is his own, and that is the only comfort. They've come all this way, but suddenly Emma doesn't know if they can do this. This is the man she built her walls to avoid. Now they must come down if her son is ever going to see his father again.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Neal murmurs, his face open and trusting and completely unprepared. "You can tell me anything." It isn't true, it might be the furthest thing from truth there is, but there's no other way. Emma falls to her knees and rests her arm on the solid flank of her daemon.

"I should've been happy," Eames begins slowly, his voice rough as gravel, "When Hook told us you were alive, but I wasn't. You… terrify me." At his words, Neal bows his head, and Emma wishes for the first time that Eames didn't speak so bluntly. "Emma and I, we were separated by accident. She was a baby, and I was barely corporeal. The wardrobe couldn't handle sending us both to a world where our kind goes against the very fabric of reality. I was lost, and incomplete, and I can never describe what being feral does to a daemon but it _hurts_."

Emma feels his words ring true inside her. It's no secret, however, and she knows what's coming with all the apprehension of a barreling train.

"You chose to give up your daemon. You severed and cast away a part of yourself so you could escape your father. And that absolutely terrifies me." Eames turns to Emma, and she sees her own tears reflected in his eyes. "Emma loves you." Neal glances at her fleetingly, and she tries to show it with a soft smile. "You made her who she is, and for that reason you are a part of her just as I am. When she looks at you she sees merry-go-rounds and mini-bars and Henry."

There's a tenuous silence. Her breath is heaving as she tries not to cry, because Neal is looking at her with bright eyes, and they're about to break his heart.

"But that's not our secret." Eames says, ears pressed back uneasily. "Because when I look at you, all I can see is _wrong_. I can't be with you like I could with another daemon, and you can't be with us the same way. So while Emma loves you and probably always will…" Eames raises a paw to press against the whicker, separated an inch from the palm of Neal's hand. "I don't know how to love you and probably never can."

A tear runs down Emma's face. There's only a second of warning before the bars evaporate into dust. Eames drops his paw and practically jumps away. Neal doesn't hesitate to throw his arms around Emma, grasping her like a lifeline, and she hugs him tightly as she looks into Eames' grief filled eyes.

It's all the reservations she couldn't put into words about Neal coming back into her life. Maybe it started before that even, in strangers' motel beds when they grasped each other desperately, as if they could make up for some terrible absence in their lives. She thought he knew her as intimately as possible, but Emma hadn't even known herself.


	7. New York City II

She’s waiting for him with a scowl outside the police station. The officers had given her judgmental looks when she'd dropped the charges (probably thought she was his girlfriend or something), and she’d rather not have an audience for this confrontation.

The man steps out of the double doors, one hand screwing something on his wrist. It's his hand, fake obviously, in a black leather glove, matching the rest of his getup. She hadn't realized it was detachable, had assumed it was paralyzed. She watches him look up, scanning the sky, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. That’s when Emma sees the gull thing perched on the flagpole above his head. The bird swoops down beside him, and Jesus it’s just as massive as she remembers from outside her apartment. Standing by his feet, its head almost reaches his waist. It must be well trained, because it stays close to him. The man strokes his real fingers under its beak.

“Glad to have you close, sweetheart.” She hears him say, his voice full of kindness that counters his punk-rock leather-enthusiast appearance. Watching him with his pet makes something twinge in her gut, mixing with the doubt that’s been present since seeing Neal’s apartment. It’s confusing, so she falls back on anger.

“Hey!” She catches his attention, and his blue eyes light up upon seeing her. That’s rare for her, even Henry has stopped being that happy to see her, now that pre-teen ennui has settled in. But Emma won't concede, she's seen enough pretty eyes in her day. "We need to talk."

"Swan, I knew you wouldn't let me rot in that cage. I've been in my fair share of brigs, but none as barbaric as that, they force-fed me something called _baloney_." She ignores the deep tone he gets when he's confused (but who gets confused over baloney?)

"What the hell are these?" Emma demands, showing him the developed photos. "We never lived in a town called Storybrooke, we never took a flight from Boston to New York, we never did any of this!"

"So you believe me then?" He asks with a dip of his head. The bird flutters its wings, as if eager to take flight, and Emma startles.

"I-I don't know, you could've photoshoped these pictures."

He shakes his head, "Photoshoped…"

He doesn't understand again, and how isolated is this guy? She shuts her eyes and tries again, "Faked." Emma looks away, putting the impossible photos back in the sleeve.

It's the only reasonable explanation, it's got to be, but at the same time she doesn't quite believe it. Why would he fake these photos, actually put doctored undeveloped film into an old camera with her son's name on it, stick it in Neal's abandoned apartment, just so he could coax her into this… delusion? It's a hell of a lot of effort to go through, and for what?

"Do you think these are forgeries, then why'd you spring me from the brig?" Emma doesn't have an answer for that. He asserts, "Because as much as you deny it, deep down you know I'm right." He looks down at the bird, who glances up at him at the exact same time. It's eery how similar they are. Emma watches them exchange a long, expressive look.

"Deep down," He repeats, oddly somber, “You know something's missing.”

There's no way he can know that. Emma shouldn’t feel like this, and he shouldn't know that she does. She got a job she’s great at, she has a gorgeous apartment she can actually afford, she has a boyfriend/maybe-fiancé she loves, and she has her son, the only family she needs. Her life is perfect, or as close as given where she started from. There’s nothing missing, nothing at all.

So why is there a hole in her heart that can never be filled? Why does she fall asleep clutching a pillow to her chest? Why does the thought of petting Henry’s dog repel her? Why does it feel like on a bad day she could grow claws and tear through this city? Why is there something she feels like she's holding back from Walsh that she can't quite name?

She isn’t lonely, she isn't, but there's this feeling like she’s searching faces in a crowd and keeps coming up empty.

As soon as she says, "If…" Emma knows she's in trouble. It's giving an inch and falling a mile. He's got the blue vial in his hand, cradling it like it's precious treasure, and she can't look at it for long. It's like the Matrix, the guy in the black trench coat offering her a pill to get back to reality.

Emma's grasping at straws, giving him the same arguments she gave herself. She brings up Walsh, and the pain in this man's expression is nearly enough to convince her.

"Perhaps there's a man that you love in the life that you've lost."

It's Henry that tips her over the edge. Actually it's the way he talks about Henry, with reverence, like he knows how much Henry means to her.

With fingers that never waver, she takes the vial from him and pulls out the stopper. She can feel two sets of eyes on her as she readies herself to drink, his and the bird's. She throws it back like a shot, and there's a moment once it slides down her throat that she thinks it didn't work, it was a trick, she's crazy and he's crazy and the freaking bird is crazy.

 _Albatross_.

She stumbles a bit as the memories flood back all at once. _Henry. Storybrooke. Regina. Dragons. Curses. Her parents. Neal. Hook. Eames._

Emma opens her eyes. The man, the pirate, Killian Jones, "Hook," stands in front of her.

Hook grins, and she realizes she spoke aloud. "Did you miss me?" He jests, because she couldn't, that's how the curse worked. Regina's curse — spell designed to give her a fake life as Storybrooke disappeared from the face of the earth. She remembers everything now.

_"When the curse washes over us, it will send us all back. Nothing will be left behind. Including your memories. It's just what the curse does. Storybrooke will no longer exist. It won't ever have existed. So these last years will be gone from both your memories. And we just go back to being stories again."_

Everyone she knew, gone, her family taken from her once again…

_"My gift to you… is good memories, a good life for you and Henry. You'll have never given him up, you'll have always been together."_

And Regina had, with every milestone, every birthday, every moment missed. Except…

_"What about our daemons?"_

_"It'll be same as when I brought them to this land the first time. They'll just be… animals. Aryn hasn't settled, she'll be something innocuous like a dog or a cat, but…"_

It had been Eames who realized first. _"I will be wild. Dangerous. No city would allow me, and I wouldn't blame them, because I'd be a mindless beast. I have to go back, with you, to the Enchanted Forest. At least there I will not harm you or Henry."_

_"I can't leave you, I can't feel like that again."_

_"You have to, Emma. For Henry. Give our cub the life he deserves. We will survive."_

"Kesi," Emma says, restless with questions, "Hook, tell me, Eames is he—"

"Alive, surely, or you'd be dead or just about." He replies swiftly, leaning closer into her space. "Last I saw of him your parents were wrangling him into a cage." Emma flinches, prison flashing through her mind. Hook must see something of it in her face. "Love, it was for your own good. They needed to protect him. You know they must've treated him well." Absently she nods, because her mind is still whirling, and she picks up on how much of his words are speculative, but she doesn't ask just yet.

Hook shifts closer, placing his hands on her shoulders. It's an invitation, and Emma leans in and wraps her arms around his waist. It's the closest she can come to this crazy life that she's been missing for a year. Hook reacts after a moment, his left arm hovering above her back, his fingers gently tangling in her hair. He's just on the cusp of desperate as he buries his nose in the hair by her ear. Emma wishes she didn't feel glad that he doesn't say something heavy about missing her or… anything.

There's a trilling chirp from their feet, and they break apart. Kesi is looking up at Emma warmly, but she cuts a glance to Hook with bristled feathers.

"Ah yes." Hook sheepishly scratches behind his ear. "Perhaps we may retire to your apartment? She wishes to speak freely as well."

Well, the veneer of a normal life is completely shattered, because Emma has to walk a 300 year old pirate and his magical albatross soul-companion to her New York City apartment, and figure out what magical calamity has befallen the fairytale world now.


End file.
